Twenty Weeks: Babushka
by hiddenmoments
Summary: Billy Cooper knows about responsibility, about obligation, about secrets, about layering. He exists on the periphery because it's safest there but he knows about change as well and that is what these twenty weeks at Quantico are all about.


**_Writing a serious Coop seemed to bring out whatever it was that spawned the _**_Eighty Days_ **_series. I can't decide whether he's more damaged than _**_Twenty Weeks__** Don or not and that worries me.**_

* * *

"We'll support you in whatever you want to do, William," his mother says quietly. "Always."

Billy Cooper folds the acceptance letter neatly and slides it across the table until it rests under her delicate fingers. He places his own over the top and squeezes lightly.

"This is what I have to do."

Neither of them will ever again mention the tears that spring in her eyes in that moment.

They won't forget it either.

**i.**

Billy surprises himself with how quickly he adapts to Quantico. The strict, regimented days and complete mental and physical exhaustion have him, after a single week, the most calm and composed that he thinks he's ever been.

He supposes he's rather intimidating though, still built like a college footballer and not particularly talkative, because the other men sharing his dorm don't seem particularly keen on absorbing him into their little group. It had only taken them a few days to knit together like he remembers sports teams throughout school doing. It isn't surprising really, not when he considers that he made it through college with little more than superficial friendships, that they naturally seem to exclude him.

Quantico is a lot like high school in some ways and Billy is suddenly, fervently, thankful that there weren't firearms freely available at his high school.

**ii.**

The second week is a little easier again and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he's made a decision that will work out. The idea is frightening, thrilling and reassuring all at once.

There are a handful of others who seem as reluctant to be sucked into the groups that keep changing and growing and shrinking depending on the day. He sits with them at meals and keeps his head down during classes. He does better than expected and attributes it to the absence of distractions.

A tiny voice that sounds a little like his mother says that maybe he's just more than he's willing to give himself credit for.

**iii.**

The third week brings a change, if change is the correct word for being ambushed in the gym a couple of hours after dinner. Billy's seen the pair around but never bothered to put names to faces. As he keeps telling himself, it isn't as though he's here to make friends.

Deliberately continuing his set, he thinks that he'd put the man at about twenty six if he had to hazard a guess. He isn't even about to attempt to put an age on the woman. It never ends well unless the guess is below their actual age. Dressed in workout clothes, he can tell that they're both athletic. He guesses that she's a cyclist because there aren't many other sports that give women legs like that and he has a little more trouble deciding whether the man is a swimmer or a runner. Can't see enough of his lats, he decides, and stops trying to place him as he concentrates on the last reps.

"You know," the woman says conversationally as he exhales on the way up for the last time, drawing his attention immediately, "They give us allocated gym hours and you are the only person in the whole place who consistently does extra during free time."

Not entirely sure how to answer that, he lifts the barbell from his shoulders and back onto the rack. "I like it better when it's quiet," he says after a moment. "Did you want something?"

"Nah," the man says easily. "Just making conversation. Common rooms got a bit too rowdy for us. Bench now, right? Need spotting?"

Billy turns towards them and surprises himself yet again. "Uh, sure. I don't think I got your names though?"

"I'm Fiona," the woman says and she sounds oddly pleased. "Call me Fi though. This is Joel. William Cooper, right?"

He tries to suppress the cringe that is an instinctive response to his full name but has a feeling he doesn't manage to hide it well enough. "Just Cooper, or Billy if that's easier."

Joel grins. "You think William's bad? I had a friend in school called Phineas," he says and Fiona laughs loudly. Billy can't help a slight grin either.

"Poor kid. I don't think mothers who are given painkillers during birth should be allowed to name their children until they've sobered up," he says, grabbing his towel from the floor and moving towards the weights benches.

"That is definitely a good rule," Fiona says as she and Joel trail after him. Joel helps him slide the weight plates onto the bar and secure them. "So, Cooper, what brings you to Quantico?"

A little taken aback, Billy sits down on the end of the bench. "Seemed like a good idea when I decided that football wasn't for me. How about you?" He settles himself in position, braces his feet on the ground and reaches for the bar as Joel moves around to stand within easy reach.

"Natural step for a military brat," the other man says in explanation. He crouches slightly as Billy lifts the bar and begins the set. "Nice form. College trainers?"

Billy nods and takes extra care to keep his form. A chatty spotter never fails to remind him of college and said trainers.

"My mom wanted me to be a debutante," Fiona says, sitting down beside the bench and crossing her legs. "It was either FBI or military to spite her and I decided on FBI because fatigues do not suit me at all."

Almost snorting, Billy concentrates on maintaining his breathing as Joel chuckles. "So that's three recruits without the patriotic zeal they're looking for. Maybe they should screen us better."

Twenty minutes later, Fiona is trouncing the pair of them in a set of cycling sprints and half an hour after that, they're parting ways at their dorms with a vague agreement to meet the next morning for breakfast.

Billy doesn't quite know how it happened and the confusion should make it harder to sleep than it does.

**iv.**

Running into him halfway to the mess hall on the first morning of the fourth week, Billy ends up walking the rest of the way with Joel. The other man nods towards Billy's dorm where the rowdy group are congregating out the front and raises an eyebrow.

Billy shrugs. "They remind me of sorority girls," he says. "Not in a good way either."

Joel laughs. "We never really leave school behind, do we?"

The comment makes Billy think that maybe he's more than a couple of years older than he originally guessed. It must flit across his face because Joel continues talking. "Basic was the same, just had a lot more shouting and saluting."

Suspicions confirmed, Billy nods as they enter the mess hall. Fiona and three others are clearly visible at a table far on the right and as she waves them over, he wonders exactly what he's doing making friends here.

**v.**

He has a plan in the fifth week but, like most plans, the second it makes contact with reality it falls apart.

The heavy silence doesn't faze Joel and Fiona doesn't even blink when her eyes flit over the raised scars when his gym gear, almost deliberately, rides up in the middle of a session.

He doesn't sleep at all the Friday night and spends the Saturday struggling to differentiate between reality and the shadows that dance in the corners of his eyes.

They find him on the Sunday. Fiona's fingers around his arm are cool and gentle and Joel's back is military straight.

* * *

**_And another _**_Twenty Weeks __**starts. Not sure about the posting schedule for this one, I'm interstate for work right now and already dreading the reality hit when I get home. Hopefully the start is a good one at least!**_


End file.
